It's February. Days clamoring hot, sitting too close and intimate in the week; one day melting into the next. The whirring of aircons is a constant, like some mechanical breath. A temporary coolness. Beyond its reach the air, moist and soupy, condenses on your skin. Slippery. Damp. It's the month of moisture, where nothing ever feels really dry. We prevail, as everyone must, with daily tasks, punctuating them by dipping in and out the cool circle of our plastic pool: after breakfast, before school, after grocery shopping, before work, after cooking, before sleep. On hot afternoons, we watch from the veranda the air thickening with the promise of a storm. All too frequently clouds of clenched fists hold spitefully onto the rain. Thunder grumbles, no relief comes. We wait...
Over the last couple of weeks, I've had to acknowledge a dip in my productivity. This blog has become a somewhat silent place. I'd like to blame February (my accusation is that it's too hot to think). Writing, like most end-of-the-day tasks, gets neglected, and finally ignored.
But of course it's not really February. It's not the heat or the sapped energy.
It's the reality of living and working and mothering. It's a finite amount of time sliced thin. It's the lived modality of the "musts" before the "would like to's". So, instead of feeling constantly defeated by it, I have decided to post less often here. I'm sure I will get to the "would like to's" again soon, but for now there'll have to be a pause.
Dear readers, thank you for your support and kind words so far. I hope that you do stick around for posts that emerge sporadically, spontaneously, as and when there's a moment to spare!
I, for one, will mourn your retrench. Especially after such a beautifully worded post. I understand the kind of climate where even the sun sweats, although, now, my February is too cold for a stroll down the sidewalk. I understand, too, the charge of nurturing two little girls although, now, they have charges of their own to keep and have left all of my Februarys silent.
ReplyDeleteThank you for always offering an encouraging word. Your comments, so skillfully put, always offer a sense of perspective and a smile. I will still keep writing, but just to a schedule dictated by forces outside of my control =)
DeleteYour writing is what drew me to this space and what will keep me here no matter how sporadic your posts. This post is an example -- sitting here surrounded by snow and cold temps, you drew me right into the sticky, suffocating heat of summer -- I can almost feel it through your words. Enjoy the natural rhythm and cycles of your life. I'll be waiting on the other side...
ReplyDeleteHi Rachel
DeleteI can't imagine a place of snow and cold right now! Thank you for your lovely words and sticking around.
Take your time writing because when it's released, just like your tight-fisted clouds, it refreshes.
ReplyDeleteThat's a lovely way of putting it =)
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